


The Search

by Silverskin



Series: Scenarios [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Probing, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-09-28 05:50:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20420957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskin/pseuds/Silverskin
Summary: Chris and piers hunt another of their foes, but all is not as it seems.





	The Search

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter in a series that's been sitting half-done for ages. No idea when the next part will be done, Wait and see!  
This may need more tinkering, suggestions in the comments welcome.

Boots, heavy and echoing, thundered through puddles of brine, oil, and other, fouler fluids. Chris raced purposefully through the dank, rusted corridors of the carrier, his face a picture of angry determination. A fleeting glimpse of his quarry’s red scarf disappeared around one corner, and then the next. A red rag to a bull. Baiting him to keep up his pursuit. Deeper and deeper Ada Wong took him into the abandoned hulk, until, panting, he turned in to a long corridor that seemed to stretch half the length of the ship, strip lights flickering feebly all the way along. At the end of it, there she stood. Half through a hatch, leaning nonchalantly on its door as if she were propping up the bar at some fancy casino.

“My my big boy, You’re getting slow in your old age. One might almost think you and your little pup didn’t actually want to catch me”.

Chris gritted his teeth at the villain's taunting and tried a pot-shot. But she was too quick, the bullet sparking off the door as it closed, wheel handle turning to seal it.

“C’mon, the bitch is only digging herself a deeper hole” the captain growled at himself.

He pressed the button on his earpiece and called for Piers, up on the flight deck, to cut her off.

On went the hunt, through more passages and compartments, each darker than the last, until the he was presented with a hatch rusted shut. Knowing she was cornered on this deck somewhere, he peered warily through the double-width doorway beside him, the muted, flickering illumination catching the smooth stainless steel work surfaces in the room beyond.

_The Galley_

Eagle eyes scanned the open refrigerators and cupboards, hoping for the dark satisfaction of seeing the lithe Neo-Umbrella operative squashed embarrassingly inside. But nothing. He was about to move on to the next room when the tiniest of rattles pricked Chris’ pin sharp ears. Freezing, his head turned to the source, a metal locker in a small side room.

_Got ya_

An edge of satisfaction crept into his mind at the belief she was moments from justice.

With deathly silence he paced into the storage room, his free hand reaching out for the handle. Two tips of his fingers had just rounded the handle, when the doors to the room swept shut hard behind him with a crashing metal groan. Chris span around, lunging at the sealed entrance and clawing at the hair-thin slit between its two halves.

_A trap. Clever bitch._

He pulled at it with all the force his bulging arms could give him, but it wouldn’t budge. A few futile heaves more, then Chris’ attention was drawn sharply back to the tall locker behind him. It rattle loudly as something moved heavily within, something years of fighting monsters told him wasn’t Ada Wong.

For a split second the thin metal doors bulged and warped from some internal pressure, before bursting open to expel the ghastly apparitions within. Two mutants, of a kind Chris had never seen, stumbled like a couple of drunks out of their confinement. The captains back pressed against the sealed doors as they shakily rose up to their full height before him.

At least a foot taller than he was, they were bizarre in the extreme. Humanoid, long limbed, and with no features on their heads except a twisted mouth and uneven flanges of wet, grey skin, the same that sheathed their lumpy, uneven bodies. Bodies now shuffling towards him with such and unsteady gait it was almost comical. Not needing to be prompted, Chris opened up on them with his assault rifle, spraying their torsos until they fell apart into a mangled heap to the floor.

“CAPTAIN! WHAT'S HAPPENING!?” Came Piers frantic voice through the earpiece, startled at the raging gunfire.

“Nothing…_now_....Just dealt with a couple of ‘complications’, not a problem,” he growled back at his partner, staring down at the twitching, dismembered, oddly bloodless parts.

After trying the door again, Chris looked around his little prison, spotting an iron ladder welded to the wall in one of the corners which led to a small round escape hatch in the ceiling.

“Damn”

The wheel handle was missing, but he climbed the rungs and tested the hatch anyway, vainly hoping he could turn the bare screw with the extra grip afforded by his fingerless gloves.

No such luck.

“Piers, the bitch has sealed me in, there’s a hatch in here to the next deck, but I can’t open it from my side, you’re gonna have to get to the deck above and open it from there. Follow my locator tag.”

A swift "hang tight captain" came in reply, and for a few seconds all was quiet but for the electric buzz of the coughing lights, the ship’s superstructure groaning, and the rubber thud of Chris boot’s as he stepped back down the rungs. That was at least until a wet sliding noise from the body parts on the floor drew Chris’ gaze back to them just as he reached the floor.

“What the..."

The torsos and limbs stirred, slowly at first but then with more purpose as they seemed to seek each other out. Chris watched wide-eyed, as the bloodless, boneless flesh slid and stretched to find each other, reaching out for their original positions together. It was then that he remembered. The unreal spectacle bringing back to mind an intercepted email from a Neo-Umbrella he had read in a briefing weeks ago.

_“The resulting creature is decentralised, with highly durable, highly regenerative tissue, able to survive heavy disarticulation. All body parts contain their own active sub-brains, and separated limbs are able to search and attack independently, or reintegrate into the original whole._

_We still have a much data to gather about this mutation, but pending more testing, I believe it would would most certainly be a highly effective weapon in the field.”_

“Rasklapange”

He whispered that odd Slavic name unconsciously, just as he had to kick away a disembodied hand and forearm groping for his ankle.

It rolled back to a little flesh ballet happening on the chequerboard tiles, neatly connecting to the elbow from which it had been blasted. All too quickly all the limbs were back in place, leaving only the marriage of lower and upper bodies. With splashes of a clear fluid, not much thicker than water, their undulating masses drew together until the pale pink tissue was completely hidden under wet leathery hide. Fully reunified, the beats reared up, as much as there boneless mass would allow, and with the weirdest scream the captain had ever heard, lunged at him again. Once more the room strobed with the light of deafening gunfire, leaving them in even more fragments than before. But now they reformed in half the time. Again Chris blasted them, and again they resurrected, faster and faster, as if they grew more practiced with each dismemberment. With shocking speed Chris emptied every clip he had on him, Switching to less and less powerful firearms until only shotless clicks came from his pistol. He tossed it aside, reached back for his ever trusty machete and in one action slicing diagonally down through the closest mutant’s shoulder. The wound barely remained long enough for Chris to see it, sealing neatly behind the steel before the blade had even exited. A few more futile hacks where all he managed before they were both on him.

One grabbed his wrists, while the other bear-hugged him from behind, flipping all three onto the floor with Chris sandwiched on his back between them. The one beneath took control of his arms, pulling them back over his head and sending the knife clattering away along the tiles, while the screaming top sitting on his hips tore at his tactical gear with its free hands. Equipment flew from countless pockets, clanking on the tiles as Chris tried to buck the monster off him. One strong pull ruptured clips on his shoulders, and it tore his flak jacket away completely. A large part of his tight, sweat-dampened shirt would soon follow, two sets of long moist fingers gripping the fabric on his chest and tearing the entire front away. The Rasklapange reared back, bellowing its weird ululation again, the warm strings of watery fluid spattering from its open mouth and down onto the captain’s bare torso and stubbled face.

With its full weight, the mutants’ hands slammed back down on his chest, each groping at a full pec. The captain peered down in confused contempt at the long fingers, kneading and grinding great handfuls of hairy muscle in an obscene massage.

“GET THE FFFFFUCK OFF ME!!” he roared, bucking even harder.

Chris knew of course that his protests were falling on deaf ears, if they even had ears. These were just mindless weapons, driven by whatever unnatural instincts Neo-Umbrella had put into them. Instincts that were about to manifest themselves in a truly shocking way. His struggling abated for a moment, when he saw a movement under the skin of the mutant’s shoulders. Two undulating swellings worked their way down its arms, sliding snake-like beneath its skin to its hands. Chris felt something, a sensation under its grasp, a pinching of his skin where his.....

“FFFF..FUUUCK!”

Horror gripped the Captain as the hands released and slowly began to lift from his pecs. Two fleshy, leech-like heads were clamped onto his nipples, reaching out from slits in the mutant's palms. It drew it’s arms back some more, and their pale pink, larva-like lengths stretched and squeezed themselves out, slapping down wetly onto him. Throbbing twelve inch bodies, hot against his chest, rippled, coiled and corkscrewed around themselves, sucking and pulling hard at his large dark prominences with their thick-lipped maws.

No time was given to Chris to fathom the purpose of this sick assault. The Rasklapange on top grabbed is head in both hands, while the other let go of his wrists and rolled the lot of them over, leaving the captain straddling the first and grappled from behind by the second. He lashed out desperately at the lab-born tag-team, punching and elbowing both in single movements, in between vainly trying to prize away the two things suckling on him. But there was nothing solid to hit. No bones to break. Just glistening leather skin as slick as butter that sank and rebounded when his fists met it. The leeches on his chest just slid through his rushing fingers like bars of soap.

Chris couldn’t imagine how things could get any worse, but, of course, Neo-Umbrella specialised in exceeding his expectations. A hot wet hand, palm up, pressed flat against the base of his spine and slid purposefully into his pants.

“FAAAACK NOAAGMF”

He quickly regretted the yell, the Rasklapange holding his head shoving its thumbs into his mouth to keep him from closing it. It wailed again as it leaned slowly towards Chris’ face. All of this while fingers groped between his buttocks, probing roughly at his anus. He tried to wrench his head away, chewing angrily at the digits stretching his mouth, but they simply flattened and reformed between bites, the thick skin never even coming close to breaking. It had him now, its mouth opening wide just as the other beast pressed its palm flat against his rectum.

A split-second of the thing swelling from within its mouth was all he saw, and then came the French kiss from hell. The undulating mass piled into his face, filling his cheeks and finding the back of his throat fast. He gagged on it as he felt another mutant extrusion grow from the hand on his backside, worming its way into him from the other end. Choke-induced tears poured furiously from Chris’ wide eyes, his neck bulging from the thick intruder squirming and pulsing its way down his breathless gullet. Another hot snake of mutant meat was now deep in his colon, bulging his muscular belly from the inside. He was about to be made into a mutant breeding machine. Red-faced and desperate for oxygen, one last broken thought struggled through his dizzy mind before his life seemed to dissolve in a spray of black pixels.

_This… this is it... Piers..._

“You’re certain he’ll remember nothing?” Ada Wong enquired in her usual drawn out, sultry tones.

She leaned an elbow on the lip of the large glass vat, staring down at the naked man immersed lengthways within it. Her chin rested on her gloved hand as his limbs twitched a little inside, making delicate ripples cross the surface.

“Oh yes, quite certain. Only what we want him to. The interface allows total control.” replied Dr Chen in his smooth, well-learned English, not looking away from the subject’s slowing heartbeat on one of the many monitors at his control desk.

Ada’s heels tapped out a tune on the tiles of the all-white lab as she strolled up behind him, throwing her crimson scarf over one shoulder and sweeping the hair from her face.

“_Total_?” She asked in a playful tone that raised a smile on the Neo-Umbrella Tech’s face.

“Yes ma'am... total psychogenic manipulation. All his synaptic and neural activity perfectly controlled at the cellular level. Memory recall. Emotional and autonomic responses. All of it ”

Ada rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Doctor, I think you enjoy your work too much," Ada said, voice filled with mock concern.

"Do you think it will take long?” she asked, leaning her hip on his desk.

Chan took a moment to respond, his hands dancing pianist-like on the control station.

“It depends largely on the personality in question," he started, eventually swivelling in his chair to face her.

“We used a range of volunteers for the shakedown tests precisely to give the computer a broad spectrum on which to base its actions. Intelligence officers, weapons engineers, even guards and cooks . They all had fairly useful mix of personality traits, and, might I add, the security guards rather low IQ scores," Chen said, frowning at the though of such idiots guarding the base. Guarding him.

"Finding the cracks though which to plant programming into them was quite straightforward. You see, the system's AI is capable of highly adaptive learning and will begin to take its cues from the subject's own consciousness as it proceeds. The more scenarios we run, the greater and more detailed the interaction between brain and computer. More and more, his own mind will be our ally."

Ada raised an impressed eyebrow.

"As to how long… hours, days, weeks. It’s hard to say, but he will be our man. We’ll find an appropriate crack and remap that entire part of his neural landscape, to the single axon and dendrite. Its more a question of how extensive you want this to be than how long we have to do it. When will he start to be missed ma'am?"

Ada turned, arms crossed, hip shifted to the right, and eyed the floating hero.

"Well, the deep cover mission we caught him on is supposed to bee a six week solo affair. Any longer than that and they'll grow suspicious and send people in after him."

"More than enough time," Chen declared confidently, then gestured at the tank.

"The nutrient feed and cytokinetic enzymes in the suspension fluid will prevent any muscle atrophy or organ degeneration. Believe me, this makes earlier forms of brainwashing look embarrassing by comparison.”

Ada rolled her eyes at the boast, but his diabolical pride made her smile.

“That first scenario was just a calibration test. A little extreme I know, but it was necessary to allow the software to monitor his neural activity under peak stresses.”

A few happy chirps came from the console.

“Ah, the first data set analysis is complete.”

Columns of readouts washed down every screen.

"As I thought it would be. His emotional profile mirrors closely those of our guards, typical of a military mind it seems, and to be- wait, now that IS interesting…”

“What is it?” Ada asked, leaning in as the doctor ran a finger along the screen and read out loud the computer’s analysis.

“_Non-typical sexual response_…_High indicators of subconscious repression_…”

“_Repression_? Of what sort?” She asked, suddenly excited by the prospects of the hero captain having any flaws at all.

“I don’t know ma'am. This is base data, only the first test results. Not detailed enough for the AI to pin it down precisely. But it’s definitely some sort of subconscious sexual response, look at these spikes right at the end of the simulation.”

Chen pointed at the graph on another screen, with gagged, time-stamped peaks at the end of a more undulating, wavy line.

He turned slowly in his chair, a knowing smile rising on his face.

“I think we may have found our crack ma'am,” he beamed.

"Look, the AI’s already building a new program based on the data accumulated.”

“Getting ready to hammer a wedge into that crack, huh? I love technology,” Ada purred.

“Mmm, and better still, the AI will do all the work. Suppress some traits, enhance others. Make him think and feel like a different man as required for our purposes. It’ll have him dancing to a tune he helped to write," Boasted the tech again.

A flashing red circle appeared on the control station.

"All ready ma'am. Care to initiate?”

Like a waiter offering desserts, he gestured at the panel.

Ada leaned in, her eyes dwelling on the program’s descriptive summary for a moment. Its contents drew a dirty smile from her.

She pressed the button with a firm excitement.

“It will take a minute or two to initialize. I’ll put it up on the tiles for you,” Chen said, nodding to one of the labs white walls and tapping away at his controls.

The simulated tiles dissolved to be replaced by a huge green screen scrolling with data.

Ada strolled back to the tank, taking in Chris Redfield’s naked form hovering in the sapphire water.

She smiled again.

“Magnificent,” came a absent-minded whisper, drawing a look from the doctor, half-hearing her.

“Ma’am?”

“...never mind,” she replied lightly after a long pause, not looking up from the unconscious hero.

For a man pushing forty, the captain’s physique was still truly exceptional.

_Strong, rounded biceps and thighs_

_Perfect vascularity_

_That stout, dense torso_

_Lean_

_Barrel-like_

_Thickened by twenty years of thwarting people like me_

She smiled at her part in making him who he was, eyes following those chiselled belly muscles downward. Hip sinews and pubic trail converged at a point out of sight under the heavily-wired, codpiece-like device mounted on his groin.

She knew from countless intelligence reports over the years just how much obsessive training, late night, and early morning, had gone into all that toned beef she so admired. Every muscle group lay dotted with small round pads, in clusters and rows, all arranged with a pleasing, carefully precise bilateral symmetry from head to toe. There to monitor and, if needs be, to stimulate the dormant soldier. A thin, translucent wire extended from each. Hundreds of them, rising up out of the water and converging on a port in the ceiling, making it seem as if he were hanging entangled in the delicate white roots of some mighty tree. A particularly thick nest of them, thousands, almost hair-thin, extended from the metal, web-like neural interface helmet fixed tight around his skull.

_The technological strings on my brawny puppet’s mind._

A transparent mask sat clamped over the bottom half of his stubbled face, tubes within it extending into nose and mouth, feeding him air and sustenance.

“Think good thoughts…my Captain...” she whispered, sauntering off to settle into a comfortable chair.

Chen looked at the man she’d been ogling, then back at Ada, now crossing her legs as she lit a cigarette.

“Is he a tough one then ma'am?, this Redfield?”

The slightest of smiles played her lips as she blew out her first drag.

“Oh... more than you can know.” 

Processor fans whirred to life, and under closed lids, the captain’s eyes began to shift once again.


End file.
